The StormWatch Chronicles As seen through the eyes of Drano Battlehammer Part 3 Update: 17/03/1998 to drano ------------------------------------------------------------------------ May 29, 596 Primus' End: no, not his hind quarters . . . the end to a very long, ongoing campaign against the nefarious plot of the Space Lizard, Primus. It started last year at this time, when a group of unskilled adventurers found themselves in the company of Cynesra and Drax. Our little band of adventurers, Lioncourt, found their way into an obelisk of power, where their only escape was to decode the dizzying riddles of the Codex and defeat the guardians of the obelisk. Saurians, they were called, and these powerful lizard-like creatures threatened the very existence of magic as we know it. After decoding two of the obelisks, our group encountered the leader -- Primus. A Saurian of exceptional might and skill, he attacked with a pole-arm that did damage equal to twenty-two dagger blows and had the constitution to take over a thousand times that. In an impressive display of arms, Drax, with the aid of magical binding spells and curses, rained blow upon blow upon the creature. Cynesra's alchemical skills and thrown gasses [Cynesra's Note: If I was throwing so many spells and poisons, this was obviously before I learned how to use sword and shield!] barraged Primus and wore down his resistances until a timely confining spell on the part of Tempus froze the creature in its tracks. It rifted out, stating its surprise that a group as weak as us should defeat him this way -- and that that mistake would never happen again. . . Things remained pretty quiet thereafter, until this past weekend. . . . Our heroes, travelling to Ravenholt to participate in the great Commoner's Tournament, fell upon a difficult night. The town was beset upon by Ferral Beasts; dog-like beings who regenerated after being killed, and appeared and disappeared at random, confusing those who fought them. With such nastiness going on, a poor citizen was almost killed. . . . It was dark in that section of woods, and the stranger in our midst claimed to be fleeing these demons called Chaos Shamblers -- creatures of pure chaos that took nearly six hundred sword blows to fell -- even those of the mighty Sir Nork and Squire Gabriel. We decided to play it safe, and asked to examine the stranger (if he had a pulse, he might not be all bad). As we checked for a pulse, the clouds rolled ominously in. . . . He had no pulse!!! The ring of steel being drawn was deafening to the ear as fifteen blades came to point at the miscreant. Whether, it was the examination, the cool air, or the sword-tips at his throat, we may never know . . . but whatever it was, it was enough to cause the lump in his chest to start beating again! (Rather quickly, I might add. . . .) We had saved the life of the poor, hapless citizen. With a brief word of thanks to us, the stranger happily left, scampering over the dew-laden loam. . . . On the evening of Saturday, the lot of us discovered the fifth and final obelisk, in the middle of Ravenholt Field. Its power was depleting the area near it of magic. The local mage's guild determined that this field of "null-magic" would spread steadily until, by Sunday night, it would encompass the town, and by next week -- the world. [Cynesra's Note: At least one person claimed to have seen two small rat scavengers skulking about the Obelisk, whatever that may indicate.] Our course was clear, we knew how to enter it from last year, we need only say the magic word A-R-G-U- S and we would be transported to the "control room" to do battle with Primus. At 4:30 AM, we were ready. We gathered around the glowing obelisk with new protections that allowed our magic to work in the "null- zone." With held breath, we waited until all eight of us were assembled, and then stated the word, "ARGUS!" . . . . and nothing happened. "ARGUS!" we yelled. But to no avail. It HAD to be the right word! All our questing from last year had told us such. . . . Now what? We decided to put together a small group to visit the Oracle in the morning. Knowing we had only three questions to ask the Oracle in our lifetimes, a select few of us decided to use our questions for the greater good of Ravenholt. (Boy, I sure hope the Duke gets to read this!) On Sunday morning, we set out for the oracle. In a brief, but nasty battle with another group at the site, we suffered hard. . . . Koryon was webbed to a pillar. Delahr was bleeding on the ground, felled by his own bravery. I, myself, was magically pinned by my right foot to pillar. At least I didn't fall into the chasm below us like Bishop and Malice. Fortunately, being the hardy folk they are, they survived the fall. After climbing back up, we made a rush forward and defeated the evil caster and his minions who had thwarted us so. We now had the questions to ask. Of utmost importance was the magic word -- due to a horrid twist of fate (and bad accents), the word was misunderstood -- it was A-G-U-S. That task done, we were suddenly allowed to decide which questions were to be asked next. It was then that the dwarf turned to Delahr with a smirk, and said, "Well, if we know we have to fight Primus, we might as well know his weaknesses!" So the question was asked. The answer included bizarre rituals which we didn't understand, dropping mountains on him, and the like. Finally, we found that gasses were his Achilles' heel. With this great boon of knowledge, we asked our final question. To help one of our own, in a selfless act of generosity, we asked the Oracle where Gabriel's sister was. Apparently, she's been missing for some time and Gabriel's quest has constantly drawn him to a dead-end. With the exact location of his sister in our heads, we left. With our spells depleted, we felt unprepared to face Primus. We knew, though, that the null-field was growing - soon, there would be NO spells. It was then that the Duke, himself, took some of us aside, and granted us our magics back. It was a strange spell he cast upon us, and as the energy flowed into us, he bade us, "Save Ravenholt, please. Save the Duchy." The weight of his words, I will carry until the day I pass beyond this realm. We met up with thirteen members of Anvil, the town Protectorate, and some from Dragonshire. We traveled to the obelisk and touching it, spoke the word, "AGUS!" Travelling speeds beyond comprehension, we arrived too soon in a small room. The walls were made of some metallic substance which my keen dwarven senses were unable to analyze. Small lights and a low hum surrounded us and we had the sense that -- we were moving. Exiting the room by the only visible doorway, we were beset upon by more Saurians. Our force was formidable, though, and we carved through their ranks like a hot axe through butter. Arriving at some large chamber, we discovered some elite guards, a Shaman, and Primus himself. In the melee that ensued, one could not keep track of the amount of Death Spells thrown or sword blows rung. All was a mass of chaos and in the middle strode Primus. I glanced over the scene at my comrades, making sure none were bleeding too profusely, when I spotted Cynesra in the crowd. The white shield and silver mane made her stand out among the combatants, and the chaos of battle swarmed about her but did not touch her. The only others who seemed to notice her were Tempus, the Shaman, and . . . Primus. The stern look on the Shaman's scaly face was a mask in stark contrast to the drooling leer of Primus. With saliva dripping from his maw, he raised his wicked pole-arm and began to stride toward the silver-maned cat-woman, leaving only death in his wake. The Shaman and his apprentices unloaded a barrage of Death spells in her direction . . . just when it seemed she would fall under the magical doom, Tempus the Barbarian gave a blood-curdling scream and leapt into the path of the flying Death Magics. In his final cry, one could almost hear a chuckle of grim satisfaction. It was then, with me so near that I could have touched her with my hammer, that I saw a maniacal gleam in the Sarr-Woman's eyes and the damphyr known as Cynesra unleashed the entirety of her life's alchemical work at the advancing form of Primus. [Cynesra's Note: To be truthful, Kestryn and Talin were right there beside me!] I gasped as the gasses she threw at the creature surrounded us, and my natural immunities kicked in. Shrieking obscenities [Cynesra's Note: "Suck gas, evil doer!"] at the abomination, she let loose with her bottled death gas until the Lizard-King stopped in his tracks. He looked up at us with an almost childlike surprise before the toxins took him to his final rest. The battle, not yet over, continued as we sent warrior after warrior against the Shaman and his minions. People fell like flies to the hard floor. I was hard pressed to keep the healing magic of the Earth flowing through all the wounded. Great fighters would fall before me, only to be up in the next moment, fighting once again for their lives and the lives of all the world. It was then that we realized that the Shaman was the true evil, Primus only his Champion. This imbued us with the strength to persevere, and finally . . . the Evil Shaman fell [Cynesra's Note: To his own spells, actually . . . he threw two spells of the Dragon's Breath at me, and I was shielded against one and used Tusurgi to Bane the other right back at him!] and the power of the obelisk was undone. While some of you may have enjoyed this tale, there are still others who would doubt my words. I say, "Let ye who does not believe come forth, that ye will see evidence of that which we used to fear!" For I have the proof of the proverbial pudding -- come, let me show you . . . let me show you my physical proof . . . Let me show you the claw of the once mighty Primus!